A Blatant Ripoff
by Ben Barrett
Summary: Another jokefic. Stan catches Kyle doing something in the bathroom and the hilarity ensues. Style. Parody. Oneshot.


**A Note From Ben: This is another jokefic. This time I'm not only making fun of slash, I'm directing a little good-natured ribbing toward another author. Try and guess which one. XD**

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**A Blatant Ripoff  
Also Known As _Perchance to Cream: A Parody_**  
by Ben Barrett

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Stan walked into the bathroom of South Park High with a bladder that felt like it was going to burst and rushed to one of the urinals, determined to relieve himself in a dignified manner and not in his pants. He had made the mistake of drinking about three Dr. Peppers during lunch and then going off to Sixth Period without making a pit stop first. He had almost paid the price for this.

He sighed contentedly as the stream of hot fluid poured out of him onto the white porcelain, and he tilted his head back and closed his eyes. As he stood there, relishing in the feeling of relief coursing through his body, he heard something coming from one of the stalls. It was a rapid, meaty, squishy sound, mixed with the sound of cloth being rustled repeatedly.

_Someone's getting their rocks off_, he thought, smiling wryly. _We're only two paragraphs into this story and things are already getting filthy._

He didn't know if he really liked that idea. After all, wasn't there enough smut in fanfiction these days? Shouldn't there be some kind of plot establishment first?

_At least give us time to strut a little bit._

"Shit!" the person in the stall groaned. "Fuck yeah!"

Whoever was in there was having a _really_ good time. He hoped that they were at least using handsoap or something as a lubricant. Seriously, going bare-fisted was kind of...well, he'd never cared for it anyway. He liked to use a little lotion, maybe a little of that heated stuff when he could get his hands on it.

"Stan! Just like that, Stan!" the person cried out.

_Oh, shit._

Was there another Stan in the school? He didn't think so, and even if there was, they most likely wouldn't be in this story anyway, so the person in the stall could only be having a fantasy about him. Furthermore, unless there was a chick with a piece between her legs

(_Wendy_)

that went to school with them, then there was a guy fantasizing about doing God-only-knew-what with him. He knew he should find that really sexy or something, considering that this was supposed to be a slash story, but he really didn't. He wasn't gay, had never been gay, would never be gay. Sure, he'd once shoved a lubricated banana up his ass to see what it felt like, but that didn't make him gay. Sure, he'd once looked up videos of dudes licking each other on the internet, but that didn't make him gay. He could even admit to "comparing sizes" when other guys were using urinals beside him, but that didn't make him gay, either.

_Not gay._

"Uuungh!" the guy or 'dick chick' in the stall moaned. This was followed a moment later by the sound of toilet paper being ripped off, then by wiping.

He zipped up his pants, because the writer had forgotten to make him do it, thus he'd been standing there for several paragraphs holding his cock in his hand for no reason. He walked over to the stall and waited, determined to confront the person when they came out. _Nobody_ had a gay fantasy about Stan Marsh unless it did something to move the story along!

_Random masturbation that serves no purpose_, Stan thought bitterly. _That's real creative. Bet the guy writing this trash spent a whole five minutes thinking _that_ up._

When the lock slid back and the door opened, he balled up his fist, ready to start swinging the minute he saw who it was. He was surprised to find, however, that the person he was planning to attack was none other than his best friend, Kyle Broflovski.

"Stan!" Kyle cried in shock.

"Having fun in there?" Stan asked, grinding his teeth melodramatically.

"Hey," Kyle replied defensively, "this is a slash story. One of us was either going to end up jerking off or we were going to end up fucking. I just cut to the chase."

"You're not even ashamed of what you did."

"Why should I be? This is a slash story."

Kyle had a point, but that still didn't mean that Stan was willing to forgive. No, no, that would be too easy. He'd have to drag this out and be pissed off for...

"Oh, don't do that," Kyle replied, cutting the author off. "Please. We get it. Stan is an angsty douche and I'm a perverted whore of an uke. We've been through this a bunch of times. You don't have to explain it to us."

"Kyle, how do you expect us to be friends now?" Stan asked typically. "Now that I know you feel this way about me..."

Kyle rolled his eyes. Honestly, sometimes Stan could be so damn stupid. How many times had that line been repeated? Fuck, he'd lost count. It was always the same routine. Unrequited love, angst, awkwardness, distance, sometimes a pity fuck or two from other characters that nobody cared about, reconciliation, and finally Stan and Kyle sex.

"Save it, Stan," Kyle said. "Let's just fuck and get it over with."

"No," Stan replied. "I'm not going to have sex with you. I'd have sex with my twin brother before I'd have sex with you."

"You don't have a twin brother."

"Well if I had one, I'd fuck _him_ before I'd fuck _you_."

Stan didn't see anything wrong with this statement. Sure, twinsex was _technically_ incest, but everyone knew that incest was only wrong when there were consequences to pay. Sex between two twins of the same gender? Perfectly acceptable. If nobody is running the risk of getting pregnant and having a bunch of freak babies with three arms and twelve toes on each foot, what the hell could it hurt?

_It's only wrong when something bad happens, or when you get caught._

This wasn't relevant to anything that was happening, but it still filled space with pointless paragraphs, so he continued to dwell on it.

_Tripletsex would be even hotter_, he thought, _and even less wrong. Imagine that. Three dudes, all brothers, all identical, fucking and sucking each other all night long. Oh yeah. That's fucking hot as hell. That doesn't make me gay, though. I just like the idea of multiple dudes on multiple dudes._

As this thought pattern progressed, he found that the more "womb mates" he added to the fantasy, the more intense it got. When it got to be impossible numbers, like ten and twenty, he compensated by thinking of sets of twins, triplets, quadruplets, and the like. Maybe _this_ set of sextuplets called over their friends from down the street, _also_ sextuplets, and...

"I hate to interrupt," Kyle cut in, "but that's getting _really_ fucking old."

"The point I'm trying to make," Stan said, "is that I'm not going to have sex with you."

"Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not."

"Okay," Kyle suggested, "what if we don't tell anyone about it?"

"No."

"What if we don't let the author write about it?"

"No!"

"What if we only do it once?"

"NO!!"

Kyle rolled his eyes. Stan was being difficult, and only making this story drag on.

"Dude, don't be a jackass," he grumbled. "Let's just get it over with. I'm going to win in the end anyway, and nobody really wants to listen to your angsty whine for forty chapters."

Stan didn't hear what Kyle said. He was in the middle of a completely irrelevant daydream about Kenny sliding nude on a Slip 'N' Slide, the water from the sprinklers beading on his young, thin body. They ran down his smooth and creamy buttocks in streams and collected in his gorgeous, golden blond hair. Stan wasn't gay, though. Not at all. He was completely straight. He liked breasts, thank you very much.

"Right," Kyle said, bringing us back to reality and wiping the image of Kenny's ass from our minds. He pulled a piece of paper with a bunch of writing on it and an ink pen out of nowhere and offered them to Stan. "If you wouldn't mind signing this, then."

"What's this?" Stan asked, trying to make out the big words. He couldn't, of course, because like always he'd been written as uncharacteristically stupid.

"A contract," came the reply. "It's a sexual agreement that says that I'm in charge, and that you agree to call me 'LORD AND MASTER' for the rest of eternity."

"How very BSM," Stan commented, ignorantly putting his signature on the line at the bottom.

"Don't worry," the other said playfully, snuggling up to him for a kiss, "I'll be gentle."

--

One story transition later, Stan was in the bottom of a very large hole, completely nude. He couldn't seem to find a way out, no matter how hard he looked. There was no place along the dirt walls he could really get a grip on. As he searched, however, a bucket on a rope was lowered to his level. He looked inside and found a bottle of Aloe Vera lotion.

"What's this?" he called up.

Kyle looked down from the top, and he was wearing another dude's face over his own.

"It puts the lotion on its skin!" he bellowed.

"Come on, Kyle!" Stan cried. "This really isn't all that sexy, and it's a total ripoff."

"It calls me 'LORD AND MASTER' like it agreed to do!" Kyle screamed, popping Vicodin pills into his mouth like candy corn.

As the story ended, Stan was beginning to think that they needed to start seeing other people.


End file.
